If Love Were By Design
by LacyS
Summary: Veronica wasn't looking for love. She was too busy building a career as a shoe designer. All that running around made her bump into William, literally. She broke his nose! Humiliating things kept reoccuring around him, but he care if he got to know her.
1. Chapter 1

If Love Were By Design

By: Lacy S. Kinsley

CHAPTER ONE

Veronica looked at the clock on the wall. It was near eleven and long passed when she should have taken a break. She was painstakingly drawing red swirls on a black, three inch healed boot. The shoe came to her in a dream just the night before. The moment she woke up Veronica began to draw a rough sketch of it. Veronica was sure it was going to be a best seller. When she came into work this morning she showed the drawing to her boss, famous clothing designer and store owner, Marcus Yutan of Saxton Hip. She asked him what he thought of it. He told her to draw it more elaborately, because the rough draft made it look like an ordinary boot with an odd buckle and swirls. Not the elegant boot she had seen in her dream. So she began the task or drawing it out in vivid detail.

The constant staring and close proximity to the paper forced her to blink excessively to keep her eyes from going crossed and becoming blurry. It was a half hour later that she began to feel it was best to put the ink pen down and take a break. She leaned back in her swivel chair, rubbed her eyes, and then stretched her fingers. The chair squeaked as she spun it around for a change of scenery. Her office door opened which made her jump. She knew who it was without even looking. There was only one person in all of Saxton Hip who would barge into her office unannounced. It was Kimmy. Her understudy, as Kimmy liked to call herself, but truly they were best friends and had been since they both started working at Saxton Hip. Kimmy was not a shoe designer, and not truthfully her understudy by any comparison other then occasional advise. Kimmy didn't even have any desire to make shoes. She was a clerk on the sales floor, which was where Veronica started out. It was a good job, and paid well considering they made a small percentage of everything they sold.

"Oh, my gosh my feet are killing me!" Kimmy said walking in, and sitting down in the only spare chair in the room. She pulled a shoe off and rubbed her foot.

"That is what you get for wearing my shoes. They have been formed to my feet." Veronica said with a laugh. "I should just buy you a pair of Yutan VW shoes. My new pumps are insanely comfortable."

"Yeah, and their like six hundred dollars!" Kimmy said as she massages her toes and winced. "I'd much rather wear these," she looked in the heal of the shoes, "New Twist. Oh my gosh, I've never heard of that."

"They were cute. I bought them on a whim. Besides they were like fifty bucks." Veronica said.

"No wonder my feet hurt. They're cheap!" Kimmy said and laughed. "Marcus said he's going to the deli across the street to buy us all lunch."

"Oh, yeah?" Veronica asked curiously. She was hungry and could eat probably three sandwiches all to herself. She looked at the clock again. It had been four hours since she had coffee and as always she skipped breakfast. Eleven o'clock was her usual time to get hungry. "Perfect I'm starving."

"I'm surprised to see you're in here. It's Friday! You're always at the warehouse buying supplies at this time." Kimmy said. "Seriously, you have the best job! You draw all day, Friday's you're gone most the day at the warehouse, Marcus _adores_ _you_ and he gives you free clothes, _and_ on top of it all you got the first Yutan bag of this year which I'm still trying to steal by the way."

"You make more money than I do off commission." Veronica reminded her. "The clothes just even it out a bit."

Kimmy waved dismissively to her comment. She wasn't about to argue pay with her. Half the time Veronica didn't think she believed her, but it was true. She took a pay cut to become a shoe designer for Marcus. But luckily, she had a great apartment with rent control, and was able to take the loss. Veronica wasn't complaining. They both dropped it. "So why aren't you at the warehouse?" Kimmy asked.

"I am finishing a sketch so I can show it to Marcus. If he likes it I'll start on it next week and make a few pairs. If you ask me—it's going to sell." Veronica added, "I'll go to the warehouse when I'm done here. I'll probably be home late." She sighed. "But . . . it's got to be done. I have a pretty big list."

"Is that it?" Kimmy asked pointing to her sketch. "Oh, wow! It's nice! You're right! It is going to sell. Maybe I will let you buy me a pair of shoes after all." Kimmy laughed. "And something completely different from your usual. Kind of funky, because the of the width around the calf. I like it."

"I dreamt of it. So, yeah, it is very unlike anything I've made before." Veronica said.

Just then Marcus walked down the hallway, stopped, and then backtracked to come into her small office. "There's my two most favorite girls!" Marcus said with a smile. "It's almost lunch. I'm going to get food from the deli, Veronica. What would you like?"

"A tuna sandwich on sour dough. Thanks Marcus. Oh, and can I get a soda? Diet?" Veronica asked.

"You got it!" Marcus said as he wrote it down. "I'm going to call them right now. It should be delivered by noon." He walked to her desk, and picked up the sketch. "Hmm." He said as he examined it. "How many of these are you planning on making?"

"Just five to start out with. See how they sell." Veronica said.

"Make them out of leather, stitch it with gold instead and over lace. Loose the buckle, then I really like it." He paused, "On second thought, keep it red." Marcus said, and looked it a little longer. It was never a quick glance when he was looking at her work, which she liked. It meant he couldn't easily decide improvements. It was as good of a compliment as it gets coming from Marcus. He wasn't one to boast about your work. He just expected you to do a good job. If he said nothing at all, you know you did a great job. "Okay, make the buckle lower around the ankle, add another, put leather straps around the boot like belts, and then it will look like a top seller, Veronica. We'll start off with twenty of these."

"Thanks." She added, "And your right, it will look good with the two buckles." It was a lie. She didn't actually think it would improve the shoe at all, but Veronica had ways around his "improvements". She would simply make a shoe his way, and a shoe her way, and then approach him one last time to see which he liked better. Nearly every time he forgot what he had said, and chooses her original design. However, it wasn't wise to disagree with him outright. She's seen nine people fired for that very thing, and Marcus's reason is always the same. It's his name on the store, and it's his clothes on the racks, so it's his decision that matters. Veronica took his words literally, and so she would wait to ask him again.

"Oh, I would buy it!" Kimmy said. "But it needs glitter, like the swirls should be glittering red thread."

"Yeah, don't do that." Marcus said while eyeing Kimmy as if she lost her mind. Then he left the room.

"Well, he didn't like that idea." Kimmy said. "That is fine. I though his two belt ideas were ridiculous. It would ruin the entire shoe. You should have said so! He completely changed it!"

"He doesn't like glitter on shoes. Only gems." Veronica said.

"Well, how am I supposed to remember everything he likes and dislikes. I'm going to school! My brain is so full with stitching, angles, and sewing, I don't possibly have enough room for Marcus's do's and don'ts list." Kimmy groaned and went back to rubbing her feet. "You should have said something. Yeah, it's his name on the shoe, but it's your initials on the end. Yutan VM. People see those initials. I can't tell you how many people ask me what VM stands for. You have a faithful fan base too." Kimmy laughed, "Some people come in just to buy every shoe you make. Male and female alike. And before you say so, I'm not just flattering you either."

"I have my own ways of approaching him. I'll just have to make two shoes. Then when he doesn't remember what he said to me, I'll ask him again which one he likes better." Veronica said.

"Well aren't you sneaky!" Kimmy laughed and grinned maliciously. "See that is why he loves you. You're talented _and_ smart. Who knew you were so . . . political!" She laughed harder.

"Well, if you want to impress him, and get hired on as a clothes designer, you better figure him out now." Veronica said. "That is what I did, and it's the only reason I've been back here for a year. I worked on the floor for three and a half years, and memorized everything he liked, and stayed far away from anything he didn't. Then I mentioned I was in school to design shoes. He watched me like a hawk for the next year and drilled me all the time. What shoes I liked best. Why? What I would do differently to improve them? What I would have made them out of. How to make them sleeker, smaller, warmer, lighter—everything! It was my answers that got me my job. So if you are serious about designing clothes for him (which you should be because his clothes and shoes are worldwide renown and sought after—even celebrities wear his clothes) you better get serious now. He has applications from hundreds of girls wanting a job here. But you have a foot in the door working here on the sales floor. You have a huge advantage."

"I'm trying!" Kimmy groaned.

"Maybe write it down. It helped me." Veronica said.

"If I don't get the job, I'll try to do my own line of clothes." Kimmy said. "Kimmy Hutchinson!" She smiled at the sound of her own name. "Kimmy Hutchings, opens the first ever Hutch store."

"It sounds like your selling furniture, not clothes." Veronica said. She laughed.

"You should be nice. I'm going to be just as famous as Marcus, and when I am, you'll be asking me for a job." Kimmy said. "So be nice to your future boss!" Kimmy laughed.

There was a knock on her already open door. Kimmy jumped. Momentary fear was written on her face. She was thinking it might be Marcus who overheard his name. Veronica laughed. Lester Benazir, Marcus's personal assistant, stood in the archway. "Mr. Yutan is buying everyone food from the deli. I'm trying to get everyone's order."

"Lester he already came in here and asked!" Kimmy said rolling her eyes. Kimmy had never liked Lester and told Veronica that he boasted constantly of women he was sleeping with while in the break room, although Kimmy was sure he was still a virgin.

"He did?" Lester asked.

"I ordered a tuna sandwich on sour dough and a diet soda." Veronica said.

He wrote it down. "Sorry, he asked me to get a hold of Marsha Loft before I got the orders, and by the time I reached her he had half of everyone's orders, except I wasn't sure who ordered what. He didn't write down people's names; he just wrote the orders."

"I got soup, salad, and bread sticks, Lester!" Kimmy said.

"Okay." Lester scribbled her order, and as he did he talked to Veronica without looking at her. "Oh, and Veronica, Mr. Yutan wanted to speak with you once he's off the phone Marsha Loft."

"Did he say what about? I just saw him a moment ago. Are you sure he still wants to see me?" Veronica asked.

"Well, that was about twenty minutes ago. But maybe you should go talk to him anyway. Just in case." He glanced at Kimmy and then said, "I should go get everyone else's order. I'll talk to you later."

"I should go too. I am losing money sitting here. And that hurts worse than my feet." Kimmy said and winked at Veronica as she left.

Lester stood in the doorway a moment. He had obviously changed his mind about leaving. "Is that a new shoe?" He asked with a nod which pointed to her sketch.

"Yeah. I had a dream about it." She said and showed him.

"You're so talented. If I was half as talented as you I would have to warn you I was after your job." He said with a smile. Veronica laughed.

"I should warn you I hate competing." She said. "Or I should say I'm not competitive."

"Me neither. Unless it's for sports, games, battle of wits, the last word. Stuff like that." He grinned.

"Oh, so everything." She said. Veronica looked at the clock. She had a lot to do before lunch, and before she went to the warehouse. She dropped a hint to Lester by swirling around in her chair towards her desk.

"Yeah." Lester said. "I also hate coffee. Especially around one in the afternoon on Saturday at The Coffee House."

"Dexter!" Marcus yelled from down the hall.

Lester turned to look before saying, "I think he calls me that because I'm a phone book like 'Dex' and 'ter' so they rhyme. I'll talk to you later."

Veronica straightened her desk, and when she thought Marcus was done speaking with Lester she went to his office. His door was open. He was with Sasha Tradesman. They were looking at fabric, and from what Veronica could see he hated it. Marcus was straight faced and his brow was tight. It was never a good sign. She knocked on the door. Marcus looked up, and waved for Sasha to leave them. Sasha looked simply relieved for the interruption. "We can talk about this later. But next time have a better selection. I can't work with this. I want something beautiful—fresh—new! This is none of those things. Show me why I hired you."

"Yes, Mr. Yutan!" Sasha said looking white. She left the room with her arms full of fabric, and looked as if she was about to cry. Veronica gave her a small smile, but said nothing. It was hard to get attached to people who worked at Saxton Hip, because Marcus was constantly going through new employees, and from what Veronica could tell, Sasha would probably be gone in less than a month. It made it hard to look Sasha in the eye.

"You wanted to see me?" Veronica asked. She came into the room when he motioned for her to enter.

"Yeah. I just got a shipment of clothes again for you. It's in the two boxes right there." He pointed by his office door. "You can take those home with you tonight."

"Thanks Marcus!" Veronica said. She was about to pick them up and leave the room, as she had done countless times before but he stopped her.

"I was wondering Veronica if you would look at this summer's sketch book for me. I trust your advice." He said. Veronica was momentarily taken back. That was the second compliment of the day. Marcus turned the book around which was already open and laying on his desk. There was a sketch of two dresses, one on each page. Descriptive words littered the borders.

She looked at them. They were much looser than the usual dresses _he_ drew. The pockets had bunches of draping fabrics at the hips. And the other had a midriff belt with pleated hips. Both exaggerated the female waist and hips drastically, and her honest opinion was she hated it. But she couldn't tell him that.

"What do you think?" He asked her.

"Marcus, I don't know. I like shoes myself. I am not a clothes designer." She said. He however stared at her, and waited for a real answer. She didn't know his mind for clothes as she did his taste in shoes. "Honestly?" He nodded, "It's not you. You use clean lines more to draw attention to the hip. It looks better the way you do it. You're simple, elegant, sexy. Honestly, there isn't anything I see of you in here. It's not bad, per say, but it's not you; okay no—I hate it (if I'm being honest). It's too long if they are trying to make it sexy with the exaggerated hips. I would have made the dress with the draping fabric at the hips into shorts, and match it with a white button up shirt with ruffles. The other dress with the pleated hips and midriff belt I would never wear. It's not a Yutan dress. It's almost . . . sleazy. But as I said, I'm not a clothes designer. I just like wearing clothes—not making them." She said with a smile and pointed to the boxes by his door.

He turned the book back around. "You're right it's not me." He flipped the page and then said, "Neither is that, or that." He flipped the page again saying, "Or that, or that!" He continued on until the book was closed. "That is why I'm going to send you to Paris, Veronica. Sasha is supposed to be giving me great fabric! Tracy is supposed to be weeding out designs for my approval, and this book is what she gave me. And the fabric! . . . You may not be a clothes designer but you have a eye for beauty and trash. You're a natural. You should be designing clothes for me to approve. And clearly it isn't working. Nothing is working. _That_ is why you're going to Paris. I want you caught up on all the latest fashion. And when you get back we'll discuss your future here. I want you second to me, Veronica. So I don't have _crap_ laying on my desk!" He growled and threw the book in the trash. "I'll have Dexter arrange everything. You'll leave next Monday, and be back Thursday."

Veronica was speechless. She looked at Marcus. The only thing that came to mind was a momentary thought to correct Marcus about him naming Lester his assistant Dexter, but thought better of it. It was just the shock of what she had just heard. She didn't want to look through his summer book or take on more work. She loved her job the way it was. It kept her busy enough as it was.

However, going to Paris was a dream! She smiled in response without realizing she was. "Of course you'll need an assistant, a bigger office, and a raise."

Her smile fell. Paris wasn't _that_ much of a dream. "Wait. Marcus. Let's slow down. I am not saying I don't love my job. I love my job! I am not saying either that I'm not willing to do what is asked for me, or that I'm not grateful. It's a honor that you'd even think of me as a second to you, but . . . But I'm not sure I'm the girl for the job. I'm not even sure what you're asking me to do—exactly."

"All I want, is for my designers to approach you before me so you can tell them to start over and try something new if that is the case. We are a good team. Today is a perfect example. I tell you how to improve a sketch and you do it. If I tell someone else . . . you'd be surprised of how many people refuse to change it and don't grow from their mistakes. You do both! I'm fed up, and I'm sick of doing it all on my own. I feel like I work around a bunch of imbeciles. I keep saying what I want, and they never deliver. I can't do it by myself. Truthfully, I've been waiting for years for someone like you to come along. You're talented, smart, have a eye for fashion and beauty. You're shoes are my number one selling items beyond what I personally design myself. I need your help. We'll make a great team!"

"Marcus," she was momentarily speechless. He looked at her. And as if all resolve was squashed out of her, she agreed. "I'll try, but honestly I think I'm only good at designing shoes. If I am a miserable failure at what you're asking me, I'll want my old job back (the one I have now), but you _can't_ fire me. Deal?" She asked and held out her hand. He looked at it, laughed under his breath, and shook.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Veronica had a list in one hand and held a basket in the other. She was slowly going down each aisle in the warehouse looking at all the fabric, lace, thread, gems, beads, and anything that would give her inspiration. If something did inspire her, she would put it in her basket. It was something she did every Friday, just not so late. Three in the afternoon on Friday's were a busy time for the warehouse, unlike the earlier hours when she usually went. In the morning it was a relaxing and enjoyable time away. It was always nice to get away from sketching and designing or the crazy hustle and bustle of everyone else at work. Not that she didn't love to sketch shoes or the long task of making the first prototype. She would even sketch on the weekends just for fun. But a different environment always inspired new ideas. Truthfully anything beat the monotony of her windowless, messy room that had hundreds of fabric scraps hanging from the wall, countless cubbies of thread, and drawers full of buckles, beads, and gems she spent four days a week in. Despite the warehouse looking remarkably like her office except for being on a much grander scale, and more tidy, she kept putting things into her basket feeling motivated. Marcus never spoke to her about her budget, and because of it she had got into the bad habit of buying more than she ever used while justifying it as creative brainstorming ideas.

However, she never came back to the office with only frivolous purchases. Her basket had everything from her list in it. The necessities: shoe cement, fabric stiffener, padding, sole linings, heel tips, and watercolor pens are buried in the bottom under fancy sketch pads, pins, needles and everything else she was thinking about getting.

Today the busy atmosphere didn't bother her. She was too busy thinking. Veronica was still terrified about what Marcus asked her to do. It was a mistake and she knew it! Being in the warehouse helped get her mind off things for a while before thoughts slowly crept back in.

All she wanted to do was design shoes. If she was going to design clothes or work around clothes she could have taken other jobs. She had other offers besides Marcus, but shoes were her passion. That was the reason why she wasn't exactly thrilled to help Marcus review sketches and give her opinion on what she liked and disliked. She wouldn't have the time now to focus on shoes.

The idea of an assistant was great! Veronica even wanted to ask Kimmy to do it. She might be perfect for the job, because it would make her one step closer to being a designer. Her ideas on fashion were usually over the top, very flashy and beautiful for sure, but Veronica wasn't sure Kimmy would see eye to eye on clothes Marcus would want to hang in his store. If Kimmy surprised Veronica and began choosing his taste in fashion, Veronica could work more on shoes and less on clothes. It was worth a try to ask Kimmy what she thought about the idea. She planned on asking this weekend before she left for Paris. Paris, now that would give her inspiration for shoes. She looked forward to that.

Veronica picked up a long spool of red thread. It would be perfect for the shoe she drew just that morning. She tossed it into the basket and turned around. As she did, she thought about her idea and gloated in triumph. She was going to design shoes. Just then she smacked right into someone. She hit him so hard she started to fall backwards, but he caught her. At the same time she dropped her basket because she had tried to steady herself. She had attempted to reach for the shelf that displayed thread, but instead she seized his arm and both baskets fell to the ground. Their contents scattered on the floor. "I'm so sorry!" She said instantly turning pink from embarrassment. She dropped down and began to pick up, and put everything in her basket.

"It's fine." He said. They both reached for the same box of pins. When their hands touched she yanked hers back and looked at him. She flushed even more pink when she saw just how cute he really was. Black hair, green eyes, and shallow dimples in his cheeks. His eyes were striking, because of his olive skin tone and dark hair. She loved unusual combinations like that. He wore black suit pants, a deep blue shirt with a black tie. He was an pristine dresser which made him only that much more appealing. She looked away to keep from staring and blushed even more. It would have been so much better to have plowed over a little old grandma, then collide into someone so—attractive. At least she would be less flustered. "That is mine by the way." He said with a laugh. He pointed into her basket and then grinned at her. "You're putting my things in there."

"Oh!" She laughed at herself, and realized she was still watching him instead of what she was doing. She quickly returned his things to his basket. "I'm so sorry. This is just really embarrassing. I'm not thinking about what I'm doing." She groaned.

"It's okay." He said. He took one last thing from her basket before saying, "Everything is fine now."

"Thanks. You don't have to be so nice." She said and then nervously laughed under her breath. They made eye contact for a split second and he smiled before he began to stand up, and at the same time Veronica got to her feet.

To her horror, she stood up much faster than him. She heard a loud crack, as the top of her head hit his nose. Instantly she saw it start to drip blood. She put her hands over her face and gasped. He looked at her. His face was suddenly white. He touched his hand to his face, then looked at his fingers seeing his own blood. At the sight of it he put his tie to his nose. "I'm so sorry!" She gasped again. He turned and walked away towards the bathroom. He had left his basket. Veronica stood in one spot petrified unbelieving what had just transpired. She was shaking from fear. Horrorstruck from breaking someone's nose made her instantly start to sweat and her heart pound. However, she suddenly realized he was gone, and quickly grabbed his basket, followed the blood droplets to the bathroom, and waited for him to come out.

"I broke his nose!" She whispered to herself in anguish. "I _broke_ his _nose_!" Veronica had to sit down, or her legs were going to give. She was mortified and probably in shock. What was she supposed to do, or say when he came out? She didn't know how she could help him. Terrible flashing images of him gushing blood kept popping in her head. She half wondered if she should go into the men's room and tell him to lean forward, and not backwards. Then she wondered if she needed to take him to the hospital. What a terrible start to a weekend! She had broken someone's nose!

Every time the bathroom door opened her stomach leapt. It was torture. The worst part was she knew he was in pain. It had to have hurt. She wanted to know if he was okay. Veronica knew _she_ wasn't. She couldn't keep from shaking. Finally, after five minutes, that felt like an hour, the man stepped out of the bathroom.

His blue shirt was wet from water where he had tried to get his blood off of it, but it didn't come out completely. Instead, it was blotched purple from the mix of red and blue. Veronica was alarmed to see just how large the plum colored stain was. He on the other hand was white faced.

It was a relief to see he wasn't still bleeding. "I'm so sorry!" She said while she approached him the moment he came out. She handed him his basket. "I'm _so_ sorry! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He said. It was a polite lie, and she didn't buy it for a second.

She fumbled for her wallet in her purse, and pulled out a business card. "I'm so sorry. Let me buy you a new shirt. Who makes it? Where did you get it? I looks like it's designer. It's designer, isn't it?"

"It's William Berks," he said. Veronica winced. William Berks made high end suits and one of his shirts was six hundred dollars maybe even more. He continued, "but I don't want to you to buy me another shirt. I'm fine, other than I have a headache. So if you don't mind . . ." He said excusing himself and began to walk away.

"No, please!" She said following him. "Let me at least pay for your dry cleaning! Something please!" She dropped her business card in his basket.

"I don't need a new shirt, nor do I need your help with my dry cleaning bill. So unless you have some kind of painkiller . . ." He said as he continued to walk. He turned down an aisle and headed towards the checkout stands.

She followed him, as she dug in her purse and named off everything she saw. "I have some free floating gum, a pen, chap stick, paper, and my wallet." She added, "But I don't have any Ibuprofen or anything like that. Well, I mean I do, but it's for _women_." Both the man and the checkout clerk looked at her with raised eyebrows and smirks.

"Thanks, but I don't have cramps." He said. He stood in line.

Veronica got in front of him to say, "I'll buy your things then." She took his basket. He held onto it with a tight grip.

"Seriously," he began to say, then looked down to her business card, picked it up and read her name, "Veronica Mitchell . . ." he studied the card, "The Veronica Mitchell who designs shoes at Saxton Hip?" He asked then looked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. In a moment his eyes had traveled from her shoes to the clip in her hair. He touched his tie uncomfortably.

"Yes. I work there. I'm Marcus Yutan's shoe designer—one of them. Actually, he just promoted me today to . . . anyway, _that_ doesn't matter. Do you wear clothes from there? I can get you a shirt, several if you want. I could mail them to you."

"I," he began to say, but touched his bloody shirt and then put his basket down, "Excuse me." He turned, and without another word he left the store.

Veronica stood there dumb struck for a few seconds. She had no idea what happened. Even as she stared at the last spot she had seen him and tried to recall their conversation. She didn't understand why he would just leave like that. The only conclusion she could come to was his headache. She couldn't blame him for that. Veronica only wished she could have at least bought him another shirt. "Miss! Are you ready to check out?" The teller asked her shocking her into motion.

"Oh, yes." She said and put her basket in front of the teller, and then glanced back to the front door. After Veronica left the store, she shook off what had happened as best she could.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Veronica had Paris to think about which made her so excited she could do anything that didn't involve packing, or thinking about her upcoming trip, which excluded eating, sleeping, watching television, sitting still or occupying her mind productively. The weekend seemed to tick by slowly, and she wished she was already there sightseeing. If she had thought about it, she could have asked Marcus to send her early to spend time there, but instead she was on the Monday morning flight which left at nine.

Veronica got to the airport early, checked her two bags, and carried nothing but her purse, two magazines, and a bag of pretzels. She checked in and excitedly read her magazine, but her mind wasn't into it. She couldn't stop thinking about Paris. And the icing on the cake was Lester had booked her reservation in a first class seat. That explained why she had perm-a-grin on her face and her eyes weren't moving when she stared at her magazine. She was thinking of everything she wanted to do in Paris, including walk around until her feet fell off after the fashion show.

"Now boarding first class." The gate agent said into the microphone, and Veronica bounced up from her chair. She hoped she had heard the agent right, because otherwise she would have looked very stupid. She grabbed her things, and then to her relief boarded the airplane easily. The seat was very large, and leaned back far enough that it laid flat. There was only one on each side of the aisle. Veronica had never been in such a nice plane. She was served a diet soda while everyone else boarded, but Veronica was in a different compartment and people didn't parade past her as they got to their seats. In fact it was a very private section. It would be an enjoyable relaxing trip to Paris, and she was excited to get going.

The lack of sleep the night before started to make her drowsy. She knew when she woke up that four hours wasn't going to be enough to function, and Veronica wasn't even sure she slept _that_ much. She figured she would need a nap, but not this soon. It was the comfy seats that wrapped around her that seemed to speed up her fatigue. Before a half hour had passed, Veronica decided to lay back, and take a nap. She was quickly covered with a blanket and offered a visor for her eyes, slippers, ear plugs and a pillow. The flight attendant took her half finished drink, and left her to sleep. She was exhausted. Veronica put on the visor, and laid on the pillow and quickly dozed off. She woke up only a few times when she heard noise, but other than that she slept well.

Veronica woke up, and opened her eyes. It was black and for a moment she forgot she was on a plane and had a visor on. She slowly sat up, pulled the eyeshade off, and combed her fingers through her hair, and then took her last piece of gum from her purse and began to chew on it. A moment later a flight attendant rushed up to her. "You slept through lunch. Are you hungry? Crab salad was served, but dinner will be in an hour if you want to wait for that. It's steak and lobster tail."

"Oh, I'll wait." Veronica said groggily.

"Would you like something to drink?" The attendant asked.

"Um. A diet soda, please." Veronica said. She gave back the blanket, pillow, and held onto everything else because the attendant said she could keep them. After that she left saying she would be right back with her drink.

"Oh, Mr. Berks You're back from stretching your legs. Can I get you anything?" The attendant asked.

Veronica turned around when hearing her voice, but a moment later sunk down into her chair in a panic. She couldn't believe her luck. She tore open her magazine and buried her nose in it. Of all the people who could be on the plane! It was none other, then the man with the broken nose. The memory of it made her start to shake again. To make matters worse, he had a deep purple bruise under his right eye. She heard him say that he was fine, and then a moment later he sat down in the vacant chair next to hers across the walkway. She turned in her seat away from him, hoping he had yet to recognize her. This was going to be torture. Her lips moved as she tried to count exactly how many more hours she was trapped on the airplane with him. Anything over ten minutes was going to be insufferable, and she had _hours_ to go!

Her plan was working, to avoid his eye. He had yet to say a word to her. She turned to look out the window "fascinated" and didn't budge even remotely in his direction for the next hour. "Miss Mitchell, would you like something to drink with dinner?"

"Water." She said without looking in the direction of the flight attendant. It was rude and she knew it, but thankfully the attendant didn't seem to mind. Veronica said she appreciated it, and then picked up a magazine when she was alone. If she held it just right she could eat while pretending to read, and hide her face. She decided it was best to start "reading" now, so it didn't look quite so bazaar by dinner.

"Mr. Berks would you like anything to drink with your dinner?" The flight attendant asked.

"Vodka martini with three olives." He said. "And four Ibuprofen." Veronica cringed. He was still in pain.

The attendant continued down the small aisle. Veronica quickly forgot she was hiding and soon found she was merely reading articles while flipping through pages. Every once and a while she would mark up pages to jot down notes on shoes she saw. She liked to critique other designs. It gave her a morbid sense of accomplishment that she could think of something better. And had been a bad habit since college. By the time her dinner came with her tall glass of water, she eagerly put down her magazine and began to eat.

Veronica probably had the worst diet. She rarely touched a vegetable, and only ate cold fruit every once and a while. Unless it was disguised in something she ate like pasta, or seafood, she never touched the stuff. Usually she didn't eat red meat either, but the steak was exceptionally good. She polished off both the lobster and the steak before sipping down her water while she waited for the plate to be taken.

"Would you like earphones for the in flight movie? You have a small movie player to watch something else if you wish. There is a pamphlet of movies . . ." the flight attendant said pulling it out and handed it to her.

"Oh, um. It's okay. I'll pass." She said declining. She then pulled out some paper from her purse thinking it would be good to try to brainstorm ideas for shoe designs. One came to her two minutes later and after a rhythmic tapping of her pencil. She began to draw a man's shoe. She pictured it as a black leather shoe for a suit with a long leather tongue which folded over and had a thin long clip that stretched down the length of the shoes in exchange of laces, and held the tongue in place. She was almost done drawing it when people all around her started to turn off their lights. That was when Veronica began to think she should stop and go to sleep just out of courtesy.

"You know—I know exactly what pant suit I would wear those shoes with." He said. Veronica jumped. She grabbed her chest and looked right at him. The man with the swollen black and blue eye was leaning over and looking at her paper. "I hope you'll make that." He said and sat back in his chair.

"Oh, maybe." She said, but truly she had every intention of showing them to Marcus.

"I saw you a few days go. I'm not sure if your remember, but I do. You gave me this." He said with a smile and pointed to his eye.

"I won't forget that for as long as I live." She said in a whisper and looked around. She flushed from embarrassment. "I'm still sorry about that, and still mortified."

"I can tell. You've been avoiding looking at me." He smiled wider. She gulped, and turned away. That was the worst thing he could have said to make her truly horrified. She felt suddenly ashamed for being so rude. She should have been the one to ask him how he was doing. She was a jerk. He laughed under his breath. "So what are you going to Paris for? The fashion show? I've never seen you at one of them before."

"Yeah. I am going. It's sort of a favor for my boss. Or I was asked to come anyway. I'm supposed to see the latest fashion, so I can pick out the trendiest outfits when they come to my desk." She added, "It's my boss's idea of getting me to cut down on the amount of work he needs to do. And it's my idea of a mistake. He'll see soon enough that I'm only good at one thing—making shoes."

"I don't think it's a mistake at all. Marcus Yutan (your boss) knows exactly what he's doing sending you to this fashion show. I bet he's going to hire you as his protégé within a year." He added, "That is if he hasn't already, but it sounds to me he already has." Veronica looked at him curiously, and then his black and blue eye. He smiled. "Has he?"

"Yes. But I made him promise me if I completely debacle the job I could continue with my old one." She added, "I hope it's just temporary." She laughed.

"No, you'll be great!" He said confidently.

"I don't have a desire to do what he's asking me to do. All I really want to do is keep making my shoes. I love shoes. They are a passion. I myself, have about three hundred pairs in my closet." She said.

"Me too. I mean I have about three hundred pairs, but I'll admit I am more passionate about clothes." He said with a smile. "I still think you'd be perfect for the job. You have great taste, and that is half of what counts. But if you're not wanting . . ."

"Oh, no. My boss is given clothes from other designers. If it's clothes for women he gives them to me. I just wear what I like, but trust me, I couldn't pick this out from a drawing and call it Marcus's perfect blouse," she said while pulling on her white button up top as she spoke of it. "Before I started working for Marcus I would buy anything that fit not caring if I even matched." She laughed. "Trust me I'm much better off in my windowless office drawing pictures of shoes."

He smiled. "I was no different. I used to wear nothing but jeans and white t-shirts." He added, "And now I wear nothing but suits. It's a faze. Maybe it will go away. Maybe it won't. We'll see."

"Well, that isn't a true statement. You can't _always_ wear suits. What do you wear swimming?" She asked. He smiled so mischievously that she blushed. "Never mind." She felt her face go pink. She turned and sipped her water and then went back to her drawing.

"Will you make me that pair of shoes?" He asked her. She turned back around and stared at him in surprise. She blinked. "I want those shoes." He said. She looked at him a second longer, then to her drawing and then back to him. She must have looked at him like she thought he was crazy because he said, "It could be payback for breaking my nose. I had to go get it popped back into place by the way." He grinned.

"You're not serious!" She said miserably.

"No. I am. I really had to go to the doctor for my nose, and I _really_ do want you to make me that pair of shoes. One of a kind. Just for me." He dug into his gray jacket which was draped over the arm of his chair. He then pulled out a business card and handed it to her. "Why don't you come by my work, and you can tell me everything you need to make it happen. Do you make the first prototype yourself? I admit I don't know very much about making shoes."

"Yes, I always make the first pair. It lets me learn from my mistakes, and with each drawing I can see what the leather (or what every I want it made of) will realistically look like folded, or . . ." She stopped talking. No doubt she was boring him. Not even Kimmy would let her drone on very long without intentionally crossing her eyes to show she was bored to tears. "Anyway, yes. I make them."

"Even better! Will you make those shoes one of a kind for me? What were you going to make them in, black leather?" He asked.

She nodded, and as the idea came to her she went on to say, "I was thinking Reindeer leather cured in baths of rye, oat flour and yeast, hand-finished and soaked in vinegar and steel wool. I made my father a pair of shoes with that leather last Christmas. I still have some at home. I really love the texture."

"Perfect! I'll look for clips like that." He said.

"I'll have to have the clips made." She said. "I'm pretty exact."

"Well then they will really be one of a kind." He smiled. "Come by my work next Monday. We'll get everything sorted out you need to get started. I'll pay for everything. But you have to make them."

"Sorry, but I haven't said I would yet." She said. "I think I would rather buy an expensive William Berks shirt. I don't have time to make a pair shoes on the side! Especially if my boss just asked me to take on even more work. I just don't have time. It would take me _months_."

"I can wait! I'm a patient man." He said then grabbed the paper from off her tray. "I'll keep this." He quickly put it in a briefcase above him in the storage compartment. He sat down and got comfortable in his chair once again.

"How about I buy you a William Berks shirt as a replacement." She said while staring at the closed compartment above him where her sketch was. She then looked at him shocked he would just take it from her. His black and blue eye stared at her. Crap! She was obligated.

"I have enough of those. I want a one of a kind pair of Veronica Mitchell shoes." He said.

"My shoes aren't called Veronica Mitchell shoes. Their Yutan VM shoes." She corrected him. "Besides, I wouldn't be able to get to it for a while. You honestly don't care?" He was asking her to spend a week on a pair of shoes. It would take at least two or three weekends to get it done, and that was if she wasn't overworked and tried. The idea of working all weekend wasn't appealing either. She would want at least one day off a week, and that meant it would take at least two months to get it done.

"I'm patient." He said again. "But I could talk with Marcus about it. I'm sure I can arrange for time off for you to make me a pair of shoes."

Veronica eyed him skeptically. "He doesn't even listen to his wife. Trust me you won't be able to ask him for time off for _me_. I haven't had a vacation in over a year and a half. And I've only had one in the four almost five years I've been there." She laughed. "Good luck with that. And in the mean time, I'll just make your shoes on the side."

"We're friends. Well, competition really. But I'm sure he would give you a week off to make me a pair of shoes." He leaned forward. "But if he doesn't give you time off, you should come work for me. I would let you keep to you dream of only making shoes. You shouldn't do anything beyond what you love. It's a waste of your time, if it's not what your wanting."

"I love my work. I don't need lengthy vacations. But don't worry I'll make you the shoes. It's the least I can do." Veronica said with another glance at his eye, and as she did, she came to the conclusion it wouldn't be that bad. It would only be three long weekends. After all, she did break his nose. She looked to his black eye, and flushed pink.

"It looks worse than it really is." He said. "So how long are you in Paris?"

"Until Thursday." She said.

"Thursday? The fashion show is Wednesday. That is quite the long trip to make and not even stay one weekend. Are you even planning on seeing the Eifel Tower?" He asked.

"Oh, I'll walk around Paris all night after the show." She said.

"You won't have time. The after party on Wednesday night lasts until at least three in the morning. Then the after, _after_ party goes on until early Thursday morning. It's practically mandatory to be there." He added, "Well, if you're serious about getting your name out there, you'll need to make relationships. The most important part of my job is making relationships. It will be the most important part of your job too, and the sooner you learn that, the quicker you'll rise. You should go. Have to really."

"Uhg. I wish you didn't tell me that." She sighed, "I really wanted to sightsee, and now I can't or I'll feel guilty about not representing Marcus Yutan . . ."

"Just change your ticket. It doesn't cost a thing to change a first class ticket." He added, "Better yet, I'll have my assistant do it. You call Marcus Yutan and tell him your staying until the Saturday flight, and will be back Monday. I can show you around Paris after the fashion show, and after I sleep on Thursday. We can spend all day Friday touring. I speak fluent French and I've been there a million times. I'll be a perfect guide and gentleman. Promise." He paused, "What do you say?"

"Um." She smiled, but flushed embarrassed. "It's a good idea, but I don't think I will. Thank you though." She said no, but she liked the idea of changing her ticket for free and staying a little longer. Marcus no doubt wouldn't mind her staying _one_ business day longer, and she could sight see Thursday with little sleep and all day Friday before leaving on the weekend. It would be fun. And she didn't know the last time she would have another vacation. Plus she had never been outside New York. She had to do it!

"That is cute. You're shy." He smiled. "And blushing. What's got you pink?"

"I'm not blushing," she lied. "I just don't think I'll go sightseeing with you. I . . . I don't know you."

"Of course you don't know me—yet. But a day in Paris would fix that." He said with a shrug.

"I can't." She said. "Sorry."

"No. Don't be. I've seen it all. It's me who is sorry. You're going to miss out." He added, "I could have my assistant take you. He speaks French, not as well as me, but nevertheless he could show you around."

"No. I appreciate it, but I don't know him either." She said and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Thank you though."

He smiled. "I see. So your shy, and coy. That is even more cute." He paused, "Do you drink?"

"Not often. Once or twice a month. I guess it depends on the mood I might drink more often. I have a few when I go out dancing or to bars, but who doesn't." She said.

"Smoke?" He asked.

She laughed. "No." She said and shook her head.

"Do you boat?" He asked.

"Never have." She paused, "Why?"

"Never!" He looked shocked. "Do you jog marathons, bike ride, swim, anything like that?" He asked.

"I swim sometimes. In the summer I walk in the park. I ice skate in the winter. I guess I just have a good metabolism, because I have a terrible diet, but have always had this string bean skinny body without trying. That is my excuse for not working out, anyway. Why?" She asked.

"Are you a dog or cat person?" He asked.

"A cat person. You?" She asked and looked at him with a quizzical brow.

"I hate dogs. They stink." He said. "But I like cats fine." He then asked, "What kind of music do you listen to?"

"Typically anything but rap." She said. "Why?"

"I hate rap myself." He sat back in his seat. "Huh." He smiled. "Well, it's nice meeting you, Veronica. I am going to try to sleep. So have a good night." He got the attention of a flight attendant and asked for a blanket, visor, slippers and two pillows. "Goodnight." He said then got comfortable, turned off his light, pulled on the visor, and then laid down. Veronica watched him. That was about the strangest conversation she had ever had. Veronica sat back in her chair a little confused about the odd conversation ending the way it had. The only word that came to mind was interesting.

His visor was pulled over his eyes so she couldn't see his bruise. She looked at his black thick wavy hair, and his thick arms. He obviously worked out, and much more than her. That was probably why he asked if she ran marathons, but what sane person did? The last time she ran on a treadmill she was in high school. Running was painful. She preferred to swim, but that was a once and a blue moon event.

She laid down and thought about their conversation, all the while catching glimpses of him. He definitely was interesting to talk to. Pity he stopped. She had no idea what he was thinking, which was half the intrigue. That was the second time he left her in the midst of a conversation. She couldn't figure him out; he kept surprising her. Interesting!


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

"You are late!" Kimmy said when Veronica came into her office. A moment before Kimmy was cutting the split ends off her bleach blond hair. She put the scissors down, and jumped up off her desk that she had been using as a chair. Kimmy quickly closed the door after they were both inside.

"I'm not late. I'm right on time." Veronica said defensively. She put her purse down, and the large bag she had brought to work that was full of scribbled notes from the fashion show, and her many quick drawings of shoe ideas she got in Paris. None of which had anything to do with clothes unfortunately. Marcus's idea of sending her to Paris to help _him_ with fashionable in style clothes was a colossal waste of time, but she on the other hand was flooded with designs for the Yutan VM line. The heavy bag was proof of it.

"You're on time for when you're _supposed_ to be here, but usually your here at least a half hour early." Kimmy said and helped her take off her light weight designer coat. One of the new articles of clothes Marcus gave to her the other week. "Somebody is here talking to Marcus, and he's acting really weird! He came looking for me because you weren't here yet, and asked me to hide you in your office. So, you'll have to stay in here." Kimmy laughed. "Cute skirt by the way. It looks new."

"Why am I supposed to stay in my office? What does his meeting have to do with me?" Veronica asked.

"Beats me! Like he tells me anything of importance." Kimmy laughed.

"You didn't call me back all last week. I have to ask you something, and it pertains to work . . ." Veronica said, but Kimmy held up a hand to stop her from going on.

"That will have to wait! Right now, now that you're here, I'm supposed to go in his office and ask him if he wants coffee. It's code for 'you're here.'" Kimmy hung up Veronica's coat as she laughed. "Ridiculous right? But I'll be right back." She said and then scurried from the room.

Veronica tried not to think about it. She had a lot to do. She practically had a week off. Especially after taking the weekend for herself to sightsee Paris. It turned out to be a hectic decision that left her frustrated because of the language barrier and regretting her stay as she got lost several times in the heart of the beautiful city, but when it was all over and done with she was still glad she had stayed. She hadn't got home until late last night, and collapsed in her bed grateful to be home. In the morning she hit the snooze button for extra sleep, but it only managed to make her more tired. She got coffee on the way to work which also slowed her down even more. Finally she got to work, as Kimmy said it, she was "Late!" And it felt late too.

Veronica sat down in her chair and stretched. She took a sip of her coffee. The bag on her desk was calling to her. All the ideas were more than enough to get her excited about the day. However, she had to store the bag in her desk because she had a pair of shoes she had to make—the dream shoes.

There was a loud knock on the door. It made her jump. She spun in her chair as the door opened. Marcus came hurriedly into her office. "I thought you would be here by now, and then I saw Kimmy in the hallway." He quickly sat down in the other chair. "So, imagine my surprise to have William Berks in my office this morning. Then the surprise just mounted when he asked to borrow you for two weeks. Do you know what this is about?"

Veronica blinked. "No." She said honestly. "Why does William Berks want to borrow me?" She asked as surprised as Marcus was acting. He must have believed her because he relaxed his shoulders and sank into the chair a little.

"You're expertise on shoes, of course. Probably so he can start his own line of men's shoes I would imagine. If he wasn't _him_, I would have flatly refused, but . . ." Marcus's words were laced with distain as he spoke. Veronica thought it strange because he always spoke so well of him, and it was through Marcus that she had first heard about him. Last she knew Marcus thought highly of him. It was a sudden change. He continued to glower as he went on to say, "I bet he's here to recruit you for a job. Pompous ass! Like you would ever work for him! He's a womanizing louse. But I can't refuse to let him borrow you. We're all friends in the world of fashion, but please! whatever he offers you, if he does, I'll pay more. No matter what he offers you! Just come back to me with his number and we'll talk." He smiled, stood up, and said, "Should we shake on it?"

"Marcus. I'm not about to go work for someone else." She looked around her room. "I love my office. I am rarely bugged. I hardly have to answer the phone. You just offered me an assistant. And an opportunity to go through all your designer sketches before they hit your desk. I've been considering it, and I'm actually starting to think I might like that. As long as it only took a few hours (two, three, tops) out of my work day so I continue what I'm doing. Plus I know I'm already getting a raise . . ."

"Yes, but we haven't discussed numbers. I don't think it's wise to talk numbers on the eve of you possibly getting another job offer, but let's just say my number was over a hundred and fifty thousand. If he asks, just tell him you make _enough_." Marcus said.

"Really, that is almost double what I make now." Veronica said.

"When you get back, and you keep working with me _it will be double_. Just go for the two weeks, and come back ready to work." Marcus said.

"And you sure I have to go?" Veronica asked.

"I wouldn't refuse him. I won't. You'll have to do it." Marcus said. "So pack up your stuff, and go to this address, and ask for him." He wrote down the address to the William Berks store. "He wants you there this morning. Right now. Well he said he would be back after a breakfast date with . . . Claudia Slavic. Anyway it was something like that. Knowing his taste in women, she's a model." He scoffed. "You can't accuse him of being gay the way he goes through women."

"I didn't know you thought so little of him." Veronica said.

"We were fine, until he tried taking my prized jewel!" Marcus said. "But whatever he offers you, I'll do better. So . . . we'll leave it at that, and you should go. He's probably out of the building by now."

Veronica packed up for the day and easily found her way to William Berks. She had seen it many times before on the way to work. And once after hearing of the store she came in to look around. It was a nice store.

She parked in a parking garage three blocks away, and then went into William Berks. Nothing had changed since she had last been there. There was everything from belts, ties, tuxes, to suits in a showroom. Nothing was under a hundred dollars, not even the umbrellas. But Veronica had to admit there was a shocking lack of shoes. In fact, no shoes at all. Another surprising thing was Veronica _could_ see herself working there. Any reserve she had about coming to work with William Berks for two weeks washed away. Maybe it was best to keep an open mind. She went up to the front counter and said, "I'm Veronica Mitchell. Mr. Berks asked me to meet him here today."

"Oh, yeah. I'll call his assistant. He'll be right out." The clerk was dressed in a William Berks suit. He picked up the phone then mumbled into the receiver before hanging up. He smiled before saying, "Actually, you can go back through that door there. Then it's up the elevator, on the third floor. He'll meet you there. His name is Chip Larson. Sandy reddish hair."

"Thanks." Veronica said and followed the directions by repeating them to herself as she walked. She easily found the elevator and went up.

A man with red hair, blue eyes, and smile greeted her at the elevator. "Miss Mitchell?" He asked her. She nodded a reply. "I'm Chip Larson. I'm Mr. Berks assistant. He isn't here yet, but I can show you where you'll be working." He motioned for her to follow him. He took her into an office which had a wall of windows, a large dark cherry desk, a couch, a library filled with books on fabric and clothing designs, and a large built in shelf which had color coated fabric stacked like a rainbow along the opposite wall from the desk. Outside the window she could see the park. It was an amazing view.

Chip Larson brought her deep into the room before saying, "Can I get you anything? Coffee, soda, water, muffin, scone, bagel, anything."

"I'm good." She smiled. "I am not exactly sure what I'm supposed to be doing though."

"Just waiting for Mr. Berks right now. He said he should be back around ten. You have a half an hour. Are you sure you don't want something to drink?" Chip asked.

"Okay. I'll take some water then." Veronica said. The moment Chip left Veronica struggled to decide what to do with herself. Finally, she sat uncomfortably on the couch and folded her legs. More than once she wondered if she was even allowed to sit on it. She impatiently fidgeted while she waited. When Chip came back with water she jumped up as if the couch had suddenly become hot. He rolled in a cart that had a carafe of water, and ice tea for good measure. She thanked him, and once again she waited alone.

Chip had long since brought her water and tea when she wandered out looking for the bathroom. She took her time looking at pictures on the wall as she made her way back, and then out of shear boredom she began to thumb through the fabric on the shelves. Then looked through some of the books. After an hour she was starting to become impatient. He was wasting her time. Veronica looked out the window and watched people enter the park, and she began to wish it was her. It was a nice day, and a walk in the park sounded like a perfect idea.

"It's a nice view, right?" Veronica turned around. The man she had broken his nose, and talked with on the plane entered the room. Veronica stared at him in momentary shock. She watched him walk to the window and point out a tall building in the sky line. "And that is my apartment right there." He looked at her and smiled. "So, I heard you stayed in Paris after all."

"You're _William Berks_! I broke _William Berks_ nose!" She said in disbelief.

"Punch me and I bleed." He said with a smile. "So you stayed in Paris. Did you see the Eifel Tower?"

"You're William Berks." She said again but it was a question. She couldn't believe it until she heard him say it.

"Yes, but call me William or Will. Either one I don't mind. But everyone calls me William for some reason. You can dare to be different if you want, and call me Will. I don't mind." He said.

"But . . . you're not old! You're _thirty_!" She said guessing.

"I'll be thirty in three weeks. And your what? twenty-five?" He asked.

"Twenty-three." She said.

"So, clearly, talent doesn't have an age." He smiled. "Are you hungry? We could go out to lunch before we start?"

"You just ate with Claudia Slavic, didn't you?" She asked. "Besides it's eleven."

"I met with Mrs. Slate over breakfast, yes, for graphic designs for my website, but all I had was coffee. I already ate when I woke up at six to lift weights. And when I lift weights I get hungry. It's a bizarre phenomenon that sometimes happens, but nevertheless I still get hungry. So, are you?" He asked.

"Not really. I just drank coffee this morning. And I had lots of water while I waited for you." She said.

"Yeah, sorry I took longer then I hoped for." He said.

She stared at him. Suddenly she was confused. "So—sorry, I'm not trying to be rude, but I'm still not exactly sure what I'm doing here. I thought you were joking when you said you were going to ask my boss for time off so I could make your shoes, or I would have said it wasn't necessary. Well, I didn't think it was possible anyway, so . . . Besides you asked for two weeks, when it will not take me one if I put in a lot of hours. But as I said, I'll make them on my time off. You have officially freaked my boss out that you're wanting to hire me. And as much as I appreciate you making my boss nervous enough to offer me a raise, and tell me I'm his 'jewel,' I don't think I can stay here to make you a pair of shoes. I can do that on my time off. And I already missed a week of work. I have a lot to do!" She grabbed her purse.

"And what if I do want to hire you?" He asked. "What would you say? Are you interested in hearing me out?"

"I would say you can't afford me. Marcus said he'll top what every you offer me, plus I get free clothes all the time, plus I like it there. I've spent four almost five years at Saxton Hip. My life is there. Saxton Hip is the best thing that ever happened to me. I love it there." She said.

"I'll give you your _own_ line of Veronica Mitchell shoes, a clothes allowance, two weeks off (guaranteed) every year, you can make your own schedule, and I'll give you a salary that will top his with a four year contract." He said.

"My own line." She said mildly surprised. She had never thought about it before. It kind of came to a shock to her that he would even suggest it. Veronica had always been satisfied with just making shoes and not caring that the name Yutan was always before her initials. It felt comfortable and satisfying that her shoes were being worn by thousands of people, and she had a boss who loved her shoes. She had job security and worked hard to get where she was. Her dream was being fulfilled by working with Marcus; she was making shoes. That was all she wanted—that was until he mentioned her own line. It was strange she had never considered the idea until the moment. "With my name instead of yours?" She asked clarifying.

"It's what you should be doing, Veronica. And I don't want you to make just men's shoes either. I don't know if you noticed but I don't make shoes. They are an art all in themselves, and I tell my clientele that." He added, "I'm sure I can help you open your own shoe store and be a silent partner. It's a good business investment on both our behalves. This would be your office for now." He added, "I saw your other office. It's not _that_ great. You can't love it that much there. Not as much as you rave anyway."

His words sounded too good to be true. She knew there was a catch somewhere in there. However, she did recognize one big flaw right away. "I . . . I don't think I could do that to Marcus." She said honestly. But the idea of her own shoe line was almost too tempting. "He helped me get my foot in the door. I wouldn't be where I am if it wasn't for him."

"Come on, Veronica. You have talent—real talent. I have seen it and so has Marcus Yutan, but you don't need either of us to make great shoes. You just need a nudge in the right direction. You should be designing your own shoes—for you. You said it yourself, you don't want his new offer, all you want is to make shoes. I am the stepping stone for that, at least that is what I'm offering here. I can teach you business sense as you work for me, beside me, and you'll design shoes. In four years you should have your own up and running successful store, and that is when I'll completely cut off from you. It's not the first time I've done this either." He paused before saying, "I can bring you out of the shell, Marcus Yutan has kept you in."

Veronica stared at him and thought. It took her a while to say, "I don't want to run a business. I just want to make shoes. I have _no_ business sense. All I want is to make shoes and when Marcus's realizes that, he'll give my old job back." Veronica said.

"And if he doesn't?" He asked.

"I don't know. He will!" She said. "I'm pretty good at showing him he's wrong without saying it. It's just a matter of time until he stops putting his books on my desk. I can spend two or three hours on it in the mean time."

"It's a waste of time, if that isn't what you want. You're too talented to do his dirty work!" He said. He waited for her to respond, but Veronica didn't. She couldn't make any decision like that right away, and wasn't about to. He saw her change in posture and her resolve to not say another word about it. "Okay, so you have a partner go in with you in your business. They do the business side of your company. You make the shoes."

"I don't think so, Mr. Berks." She said stubbornly.

"William." He corrected her. He smiled. He looked at her for a moment and then like a switch the business man in him softened, and he said, "Well, I think we should go out to lunch then. Get your stuff. I'll drive."

"What?" Veronica looked at him. Another surprising twist in his always captivating and charismatic conversations. Her certainly wasn't boring. However, she was apprehensive. It wasn't like her to go out to lunch with a perfect stranger. She did _nothing_ rash. If she was at all smart, she should be either working on his shoes, or going back to Saxton Hip and catching up. Her pile of work was mounting by the day. He walked to the threshold of the door, and smiled waiting for her. His black and blue eye was almost healed. He had friendly green eyes when he smiled. She didn't know why, but she grabbed her purse and followed him.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

He took her to a sushi bar not far from his clothing store, in a new sports car. It still smelt like leather, and the radio was playing songs she recognized on the top fifty charts. She kept her purse on her lap, and answered questions to his small talk, but not well, because her eye was almost always on his hand which rested on the stick shift. His hand was very close to her leg. He even kept touching her with each shift of the gear, and every time he apologized. The last time it happened he added, "It's a small sports car. I think I need to trade it in for something else because it's impractical."

Veronica was glad to get out of his car. She never spoke well when nervous. Most of the time she was beyond quiet. It was part of her upbringing. She was used to silence. He on the other hand spoke easily. And it was always a relief to find people who talked a lot. One of the reason Kimmy and her hit it off from the beginning.

They sat at the bar, and he ordered Saki and a mix of everything on menu they called The Platter. He poured her a glass of Saki, and then filled his before taking a few sips. "So tell me about yourself. I want to know everything." He said. "Start with your family."

"Sorry?" She asked. It wasn't the interview question she thought it would be. She laughed. She looked at him and smiled. "Oh! Your serious!"

"Yeah. You know, your parents, siblings. Humor me, I'm curious." He said.

She laughed again. "Okay." She thought. "Well, I am an only child of Bill and Emily Mitchell. They live just outside New York."

"Do you see them much?" He asked.

"No. Christmas and if that. As I said I am an only child and I was alone a lot growing up. I felt like was a third wheel around them, and I never grew out of that. So, I don't see them much I'm afraid." She said.

"So, I bet you want a big family of your own now. Most people who grew up as an only child do." He said. He smiled.

"Big? No. I might have two. But I'm twenty-three. I don't have time to date let alone get married and have kids. I'm too busy working to even think about dating." She said.

"No. Work has nothing to do with it. You probably just don't want to right now. Or as everyone says it, you haven't found anyone yet. Work never has anything to do with it. It's an excuse. I'm busy, and I make time. But then I'm not the best example. I haven't gone on more than one or two dates with the same person since college, except one. Don't get me wrong I don't have commitment issues." He laughed. "Although, if I'm being honest one of my girlfriends cheated on me, and ever since then I've been pretty good at weeding them out." Veronica apologized. "No. Honestly, it was _years_ ago. I should have known better. 'I should have asked her to marry me, but she didn't think I wanted to, and so she decided it was time to move on.' At least I think those were her last words to me—something like that." He shrugged. "So did you even think you'd marry?"

"Wow, kids, marriage, and now this. This conversation is really . . . personal." She laughed and eyed him funny. "I usually never talk to people about this . . . but I'll answer this, then we should talk about something generic or I'll get uncomfortable. I like my shell—like you said."

"No, you don't have to tell me." He said and waved a dismissive hand.

"No, I'll answer it. But don't think too poorly of me. But . . . yes. In college I thought about marrying this guy, _all the time_! That was the sad part, because I was so in love with him for over a year (obsessed over him really—it was ridiculous)," she laughed, "but then when I finally had enough guts to ask him out and when we started dating I realized just how terrible we were together. It was nothing. Less than nothing."

"Wait! You didn't know him?" He asked surprised. "Sorry, I just thought you were more . . . guarded."

"Oh, no. I am guarded! But I did know him. We had classes together for years, and worked to together a lot." She said in her defense. "But I didn't really know him until we started dating. You know what I mean." She said.

"Not really, no." He said. "I'm a pretty good judge of character. I can usually peg a person by the first few meetings. People are all the same. Either they're decent or not. They're manipulative or not. They're a gossip or their not. They only see your money, or not. As long as you stay away from warning signs there isn't anything to fear really." He said. "I bet you knew in the beginning what you ended up not liking about this guy in the end."

"No. I didn't." She said. She smiled, but flushed pink. It was strange how easily it came to talk to him, but at the same time he was pushing her from her comfort zone. She usually would never breath a word about this, and only told a hand full of people including family, but she found herself saying, "He did drugs, and was abusive. I didn't know that, at first, but it didn't take me long to figure it out, and even less than time to get out of the relationship. He didn't actually hit me. He was too high and missed. But I'm sure he would have—eventually. It was the first time I ever saw him like that, and it was the last. I later told him it was over, and sense it was only two weeks into our relationship, he didn't seem that hurt. And like that it was over. So you see it isn't anything worth talking about. It was nothing, except maybe a mistake." She added, "And I can't believe I'm telling you all this." She laughed. "So embarrassing."

"I listen. At least I think that is why people tell me things, anyway. That and I'm an extreme extrovert. I have a lot of friends. Always have." He added, "But I admit I stand corrected. Not all relationships end from something that can be seen in the beginning." He said.

"No. I mean, I think you're right. I can see how you wouldn't go on more than two dates. You would know after that if you got along, and more dates would be a waste of time." She said. "Maybe that was why Marcus Yutan hinted you're a womanizer."

"Ouch! Really, he said that?" William sat back his chair. Veronica apologized. She couldn't believe she had just said it. It just came out. Things like that happened when she was nervous. She blurts out things that pop in her head with no regard to how it's perceived when she's nervous, and she told him that.

She finished by saying, "Maybe if I didn't break your nose . . ."

"What do you think? Do I seem like one to you?" He asked her interrupting her.

"I hardly know." She said quickly.

"I don't sleep with women I'm not monogamous with." He said blatantly. "I can count on one hand all the women I've slept with."

"You don't have to tell me that." She said flushing pink. He laughed under his breath.

He ordered water, drank thirstily from the cup, and then asked, "So how have you managed never to step foot on a boat. That is almost weird."

She laughed. "I've been on ferries." She added, "My parents hate the ocean, and so I've never been around the water much until recently. I swim at the Flex Gym all the time now. Okay, more like twice a week if I have time. And it's more of a dog paddle than swimming."

"Wow, you're an Olympian. That's impressive." He smiled. "I work out or swim in my building. It's usually pretty empty in the morning. I like it deserted. Actually, I am going to do an Iron Man Marathon in two weeks. Just before my birthday. I'm training right now."

"An Iron Man Marathon. Are you crazy? I couldn't swim two miles let alone swim, bike and run." She laughed, "Do you have a great high from working out, or a love of pain?"

"No. I just want to." He added, "Just once."

"You're crazy." She said.

"Maybe a little." He laughed under his breath.

"So is your family here?" She asked him curiously.

"No. My sister is in Philadelphia. She's married, and has two girls (twins), Cleo and Claudette. They are three, and her life! She loves them, and she's a great mom. Her husband, Devin, is a lawyer and like all lawyers he's a total jerk. I used to be really close with my sister until she married him." He paused, "Anyway, my parents are in Texas and still living in the house I was raised in. They've been married almost thirty-six, seven years now. Their going strong. They travel mostly these days. But they are always home for Thanksgiving and, or Christmas which is when I usually see them."

"Why is her husband a jerk, if you don't mind me asking?" Veronica asked.

"Not at all. He's just a jerk! It's everything really. He's cheating on her, and Nora just doesn't want to hear it." He added, "It was hard to hear cry about it each time he skips town for the weekend every time he got a new mistress, but she doesn't cry anymore which is even more sad. That and he says the stupidest crap, that is so rude. I don't know what she sees in him. I don't know why she is still married him. It's a mystery!"

"He sounds like a jerk." She said.

"So have you had sushi before? I can see you like it." He said.

"Yeah. I am brave about some things. Sushi is one of them." She said. "I have had sushi in every place I've traveled to which means I've had sushi in the Big Apple, New York City, Empire City, Gotham, The City so Nice, They Named It Twice, oh! and The Capital of The World. Well, I can't honestly say that now, because I didn't have time to find a sushi bar in Paris, and I couldn't speak enough French to find _anything_ really. It was kind of a fiasco staying the extra two days."

He laughed before saying, "You're so timid it's cute. You should have called my room and I would have taken you around. I would have definitely taken you out to sushi if you asked."

"No. I would have bothered you." She said and waved a hand. "And I would have looked like an idiot. I'm still trying to recover from breaking your nose. That was terrible! Worse than that."

"Bother me?" He laughed. "Yeah, you're really annoying, hard to talk to, and not at all pleasant to look at. I would have been tortured for hours. Thanks for saving me the visit."

"You are teasing me!" She said and blushed pink.

"Yes." He said. He pushed his plate away. He was done eating. He turned his chair towards her and watched her drink water.

"You're done?" She asked him.

"Yeah." He said. "I'll wait for you though."

"No. I'm fine." She said and took one last bite of sushi before saying, "Let's go."

"Are you eager to get back?" He asked. "Because we could go through the park on the way back to William Berks." He added, "It's nice out, and I could walk off what I just ate." He stood up, and threw a few twenties on the bar table. "So what do you want to do? Walk, or dive back to William Berks?"

"Um." She stood up grabbing her purse as she thought. Not an hour ago she was wanting to walk in the park. And it was a nice day out. "Um."

"While you think about it, we'll walk." He said and then put his hand on her back to steer her out the restaurant. "So, here is an off the wall question for you." He said when they reached the sidewalk.

"Okay." She said slowly.

"I'm wondering what your bucket list is. You know things you want to do." He said.

"I haven't made one." She said honestly. "I'm pretty boring really. Ask me my five year goal or ten year goal and I could answer that! But I guess I've always wanted to go to Hawaii. Go on a hot air balloon ride. Maybe do something supper crazy like bungee jump or sky dive. But I doubt I ever will. I would be to scared when it came down to it. Although I have been on one of those sixteen story swings. That was creepy. There was nothing to hold onto."

"A five year plan. Okay I'll bite." He said with a laugh.

She laughed. "Okay. In five years, I want to be two years into a long engagement. I'll be working at Saxton Hip, but making more money. I want to be in Manhattan by then, and own a condo, preferably on the top floor that has a roof garden. So far everything else I've achieved in a year." She said.

"And in ten years?" He asked.

"I better be married by then! Yikes thirty-three and not married. No I'll be married. And if I have kids I'll probably quit, at least for a few years." She shrugged, "I want to make sure if I do ever have kids I don't ignore them. I'll make time for them." She added, "But really it's all dependant on if my husband wants kids. I don't think it would be a deal breaker for me though, if he didn't want them."

He quickly asked, "So what would you consider a deal breaker? Besides illegal drugs and abuse . . ."

"Religion. I couldn't be with anyone who wasn't a Christian. And I couldn't be with anyone who gambled, chain smoked, had control issues, stuff like that. But I could never be with someone who had close female friends. Acquaintances, knows their name, sure, but spent time with—no. I'm not secure enough for that." She said.

"That does smack of insane jealousy." He said with a smile.

"Is it? I think it is men not fulfilling a woman's need to feel important and secure in their relationship. Because a woman could be not jealous at all around one man, and insane around another." Veronica said.

"I was joking, Veronica." He said and nudged her. "Seriously, I'm the most jealous person on earth, and have been since I was cheated on. I find it inappropriate, and disrespectful to consider spending time with the opposite sex while dating another. If a woman doesn't like that about me, then it's obvious it would never work out between us. That is definitely a deal breaker for me too. But I think I would have to add, that I could never be with someone who was manipulative, dragged me to her parents house every other weekend, or asked me to quit my job because I work sixty hours a week, and twelve hours days. Which is why I'll probably end up marrying someone I work with." They cut through the park and reached the paved path before he said, "So my last question, and then I promise not to drill you anymore."

"No. I don't mind." She said. "But you didn't say your five or ten year goal."

"Mine?" He smiled. "It's the same I think. We'll no. I'll be engaged in a year, married in two. Kids by five years. Or sooner. Yeah, probably sooner. And in ten years I'll be doing something completely different like oil paint." He said throwing the idea out there. It was obvious it was just a thought. He truly had no idea what he would be doing by forty. He paused before saying, "Okay, so my last question."

"Okay." She said.

"Who's the actor your attracted to most?" He asked.

"What is his name! He plays in that movie with all those kids. What is his name?" She asked.

"I have no idea." He said and laughed.

"He has dark hair and pretty eyes. Kind of buff. He's really good looking. Anyway, I don't know. I'm not the biggest movie buff out there. I always feel I should be doing something else so I don't watch them. Unless it's with someone, then I'll make time. But typically I don't see them alone and like me my best friend, Kimmy is constantly busy." She laughed. "So I guess anyone who is tall, dark and handsome. What woman wouldn't say that though, right?"

"So you boyfriend in college had dark hair, pretty eyes, and was kind of buff?" He asked.

"No. I mean yes, he had dark hair. He was average, but actors are supposed to have unique combinations." She said.

"I have black hair and green eyes, does that qualify as unique?" He asked.

"I didn't notice." She lied and blushed.

"Are you curious who I would say?" He asked.

"Not really." She said. "I hear you date models all the time, so . . . I'm guessing any model turned actress." She laughed under her breath.

"You heard that, did you? You shouldn't believe everything you read." He paused, "I work around models. I meet a lot of them. I guess you could say it's bound to happen once or twice."

"_I_ work with models, and _I_ haven't run into that problem." She said thinking out loud and laughed. He smiled.


End file.
